


The Fundamental Things Apply

by LadyShadowphyre



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canonical Character Death, Castiel (Supernatural) Understands Boundaries, Castiel Respects Sam's Right To Consent Or Not Consent, Chuck Shurley Cameo, Consensual Kissing, Discussion of Off-Screen Sexual Activity, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kissing, Lucifer Does Not Properly Understand Consent, Lucifer Possessing Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Soulless Sam Winchester, discussions of consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-01 08:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18332684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyShadowphyre/pseuds/LadyShadowphyre
Summary: Five times Castiel asked to kiss Sam, and one time Sam asked to kiss Castiel.





	1. Detroit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saintsurvivor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintsurvivor/gifts).



> Spawned from discussion in the SamandCas Discord server.

**T** OMORROW WAS THE day that either the world would end, or  _ his _ world would end, and Sam Winchester wanted nothing more than to get completely hammered so that he wouldn't have to actively think and plan and worry for the few hours he had left as the only resident of his body. He even had a bottle close to hand, a rare acquisition of real aged whiskey paid for rather than stolen, but he couldn't make himself crack open the seal. This whole mess had started with breaking Seals and he couldn't help the feeling that breaking this one, innocuous as it might seem, would mess up even more.

A soft crunch of gravel had him reaching for his knife before he even thought to turn. He released it again at the low "It's just me, Sam," from a quiet voice that was familiar despite not being the voice he had half expected. "Hey, Castiel."

"Hello," Castiel replied as Sam turned his head to look at the approaching angel. "May I join you?"

"Sure," Sam shifted over sideways on the hood of the rusted old truck, the glass of the unopened whiskey bottle clinking against the metal. Castiel glanced down at the bottle, his face undergoing an odd shift in expression that reminded Sam that this was the angel who had not too long ago found a liquor store and drank it as a means of coping with God's decision to sit out the Apocalypse. "It's not open."

"But you were planning to open it?"

"I don't know," Sam sighed and stared down at the bottle. "I mean, it seems like a really good bad idea, you know? One last bender before the end of the world." He huffed a laugh that had very little humor in it. "And if I'm hungover tomorrow, maybe the pain'll make it easier to go through with this."

"Sam," Castiel said, and Sam blinked to hear the earnestness in the angel's tone. "You do not have to go through with this plan if you truly do not want to."

"I thought you liked the plan," Sam said, staring at Castiel. "You stood up for it to Dean and Bobby, helped me convince them it will work!"

"I do believe the plan will work," Castiel corrected. "That does not mean that it is a plan I like, nor do I like that it is the only plan with even a percentage of a chance of working."

"Is that your way of saying you'll miss me?"

"Assuming I survive the coming confrontation."

"Right." For a long moment, the two of them sat side by side in the darkness, looking up at the stars. It almost felt like any number of nights that Sam had done this with Dean, nights that had been fewer and farther between since Sam's stupidity in trusting Ruby and Lucifer's rising, but nights that did still exist... that he had once feared would never happen again. "Listen, Cas--"

"Sam, may I--"

They both stopped, looking at each other, before Sam blinked and chuckled a little. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"You may go first," Castiel offered, averting his eyes.

"Okay. I just..." Sam blew out a breath and ducked his head, hair falling to hang over his eyes. "I wanted to say, well, thank you. For saving Dean. I mean, I know you didn't do it for me, and if it hadn't been you it would have been some other angel, and I'm just... really glad it was you. And I meant to say thank you for saving my brother back when we first met and then stuff got in the way, so. I wanted to say it now."

"There is no need to thank me for that."

"I think there is. Not just because you saved my brother, but for everything after, too. Who's to say that if it had been another angel instead of you, we wouldn't already have lost with the world in ruins from Michael and Lucifer battling it out? And I know Dean's probably had the same thought a time or six, but he's not big on apologies or thanks, so... thank you for saving him and sticking with us, even when we made it way too hard on you." Silence fell between them, Sam having finished what he wanted to say, and Castiel just taking in the words and the emotions behind them. When the silence and the staring got to be too much, Sam cleared his throat and shifted. "So what were you going to say earlier?"

"Oh!" Castiel's cheeks darkened in the dim light, and Sam came to the startling and disquieting realization that the angel - the  _ falling _ angel - was blushing. "May I kiss you?"

Sam stared. That couldn't have been what it had sounded like. "What?"

"I realise that this may seem like a nonsensical request to make," Castiel mumbled, looking down. "I have tried numerous times to find a way to better articulate my feelings in the past, and each time I have failed, either through poor timing or miscommunication. Dean suggested that I be blunt in my wishes."

"Dean told you to ask to kiss me?" Sam repeated dubiously. Castiel paused.

"Not in so many words," he allowed. "He told me to 'man the fuck up and tell Sammy you got the hots for him before it's too late'."

"Yeah, that sounds more like Dean," Sam mumbled, feeling the heat rushing into his own face.

"Yes, well," Castiel actually coughed, looking flustered. "I found his suggested vernacular both crude and inadequate. He did, however, have a point."

"Oh?"

"I already feel regret that I have not managed to speak up about my feelings for you sooner than this," Castiel said, looking up from his contemplation of the dirt to meet Sam's eyes. "I would have infinitely more regrets if I did not make my feelings known before you will no longer... before you will be..."

"Gone," Sam finished for him softly, his chest aching at the minute flinch his plain statement provoked in Castiel. The angel nodded, which Sam echoed, and silence fell once more.

This silence was heavier. Anticipatory. Sam could feel the difference, but it was only when he felt the ache in his hands that he realized how tightly he was gripping the glass of the whiskey bottle and that the anticipation, if that was really what it was, came from him. With careful deliberation, Sam set the whiskey bottle on the ground at his feet, then turned his body more towards Castiel, who had gone back to studying the stars.

"Okay."

Castiel's eyes flew to his, the line of his back and shoulders straightening into sharp attention. "Okay?"

"Yeah, o-okay," Sam nodded. Swallowed. "You can... kiss me." Because he knew that, now that the idea was in his head, now that he knew that Castiel at least had feelings of some sort for him that involved the desire to kiss him, even if he couldn't be sure of his own feelings and knew that this close to letting... to the  _ end _ that even thinking about returning those feelings would just give Lucifer ammunition to use against him, he would never be able to forgive himself if he didn't at least try to give Castiel at least one happy memory of him, even if it would probably be the last.

It was awkward. Castiel clearly had an intellectual understanding of the mechanics of kissing and the purpose of using a kiss to express affection, but it was equally clear that he had never actually kissed anyone before. Their noses bumped, their lips were dry and chapped and pulled uncomfortably until Sam huffed and drew back, wet his own lips with his tongue, and pressed in again. Castiel's hands fumbled for purchase at his waist as one of Sam's hands came up to cup the side of Castiel's face. He tilted his head, brushed his thumb against the edge of the angel's jaw, and then they were kissing. Careful. Soft. Practically chaste.

Castiel was trembling.

Sam ended the kiss, drawing back again and feeling the press of Castiel's face against his hand as the angel tried to follow him. "Cas? Are you alright?"

"I will miss you, Sam Winchester," Castiel whispered, lips barely a few inches from Sam's, close enough that Sam felt the wash of warmth from his breath as he spoke. "I believe that I miss you already, and yet you are still here."

"Yeah," Sam sighed, leaning in again to rest his forehead against Castiel's. "That's pretty normal when saying goodbye to someone you... care about."

"I see."

It was a long time before either of them moved again.


	2. Soulless

**T** HERE WAS SOMETHING very wrong with Sam. That wrong feeling had been there before, he knew, but different. The previous wrong feeling stemmed from the demon blood in his veins, even if he hadn't known that's what it was. This was a very different sort of wrong, a feeling of absence where there should be presence. He had considered that it was the absence of Dean in his life, and had sought to correct that, but the feeling of wrongness persisted. He had pondered if he was somehow feeling the absence of Lucifer, since he was his true vessel, but that did not feel quite right either. He held no fondness for Lucifer, nor for the memory of ice flooding his being. Curiously, he also felt no revulsion or bereavement. He felt... felt...

What did he feel?

... _ Did _ he feel?

Yes, he determined, when irritation stabbed through him at the sudden presence of Castiel in the hotel room following Dean's prayer, when before he had prayed to Castiel and received no answer. He remembered that the angel had claimed to have feelings for him, before he had jumped. Did he no longer have those feelings? Was this absence Sam felt pervading his being somehow connected to the loss of Castiel's regard? That the angel spoke of his "profound bond" with Dean in answer to Sam's sharp demand to know if Castiel liked his brother better that he would answer  _ Dean's _ prayers and not  _ his _ , Sam could only assume it was the case, and yet he still felt... irritation, even offense, but no real anger or disappointment.

It should have been disconcerting.

It wasn't.

"There's something seriously wrong with Sam," Dean told the angel, and Castiel turned those electric blue eyes his way. He met them with the same expression he met everything of late.

"I don't feel like I think I should," he said. "I don't sleep. I get no satisfaction from food, only nutrients. I have sex a lot ("Dude!") but all the sensations are physical, endorphins and stimulated nerve clusters, with none of the affection or satisfaction for seeing to my partner's needs that I recall feeling in the past. I look at Dean, for whom I  _ know _ I should feel deep-seated emotions, and yet I feel... nothing. I don't understand what's wrong, but I know something is."

"I see," Castiel said, brows knit in a frown. "Sam, may I kiss you?"

"Dude, I'm right here!" Dean complained, but neither Sam nor Castiel looked at him.

"Why?" Sam asked. He had no objection, but the only other time the angel had wanted to kiss him was to express his feelings before saying goodbye. This seemed random.

"I believe I might have an idea of what is wrong, but I would need to check something," Castiel explained. "With my Grace restored and having the power of a Seraph at my command, I can do so through a kiss, which will be much less physically taxing than thrusting my hand into your chest."

"You gonna explain what kind of check-up requires  _ that _ ?" Dean demanded.

"Something deeply personal that I will explain after I have checked and determined whether or not I am right," Castiel snapped. "I would rather spare you unnecessary alarm if I am wrong."

"Well consider me alarmed!" Dean snapped back. Sam tilted his head to the side, studying Castiel, but the angel was at full power and as stone-faced as he had once been before the Apocalypse.

"Okay," he said after a moment, ignoring Dean's squawk of outrage. "You can kiss me, Cas."

"Thank you," Castiel said, his tone rather dry. Sam suspected the angel was feeling a fair amount of his own irritation at Dean, and that... was amusing. Huh.

Castiel's lips were still dry against his, but the angel had learned to tilt his head so that their noses did not smash together. He cupped Sam's face with his hands to hold Sam still, and Sam obliged by keeping as motionless as he could manage, parting his lips to allow the angel however much or little of a kiss he needed to ascertain whatever it was he thought might be wrong. It was over quickly, Castiel drawing back and lowering his hands, staring at Sam with an expression Sam could remember seeing once before, in a warehouse with the corpse of Alistair's meatsuit slumped against the wall.

"Well?" Dean demanded, when neither one of them spoke.

"It is as I feared," Castiel said, only then looking away from Sam. "His soul is gone. There is nothing there."

...Oh.


	3. Restoration

**C** ASTIEL, UM... I'M back," Sam prayed, eyes closed and stomach twisting with anticipation, dread, and guilt. He shouldn't be doing this. Everything else aside, the lies and the misdirections and the great gaping blank space in his memory where there should have been, at the very least, a year and a half's worth of memories, he could still remember the night Castiel had confessed to him... kissed him... and Sam knew from Dean that the angel was fighting a war and wouldn't have time to answer frivolous prayers, especially ones that were as trivial as Sam's missing memories. The angel who told Sam he cared about him, would miss him even before he was gone, and here Sam was praying to him for the first time that he could remember since his soul was returned to his body not even just to say hi, but with the motive of trying to weasel out anything he could about his missing time? He was a horrible person to be in love with for a human, never mind not deserving an angel's love, but he'd already started the prayer. He swallowed. "So, if you got a minute..."

There was the faintest rustle of what could have been wings, a sound that sent a spike of terror through Sam's body that he ruthlessly tried to squash down even as he wondered where it had come from. Out of habit, he twisted to look around behind him, and was disappointed to find nothing changed and no one there.  _ He's running a war, you idiot, _ he chastised himself as he turned back again.  _ He doesn't have the time to just drop everything and come running-- _

"Sam," Castiel said from where he was standing a few feet in front of Sam. "It's so good to see you alive."

"You, too," Sam managed on autopilot around the shock of seeing Castiel standing there, of knowing he'd really come to Sam even with his war and responsibilities and everything. His heart might well have tried to pound its way out of his chest with the sudden physical, visible proof that Castiel was  _ alive _ ! Knowing intellectually that Castiel was alive, that he'd been brought back from death or oblivion or whatever happened to angels when pissed off Archangels exploded them, that was in no way comparable to having Castiel right there. Sam felt so relieved--

\--he felt so sick--

\--he slid quickly into the chair in front of the motel room desk before he had consciously registered Castiel's approach, only noticing after he had done it that the angel had his arms lifted and open.  _ Like he was offering a hug...or seeking one. _

Sam felt his gut twist and tighten further with guilt. "Um... Look, I... I  _ would _ hug you, but--"

"That would be awkward," Castiel filled in, lowering his arms, and the  _ understanding _ in his face was almost worse than the disappointment, because Sam's body clearly knew why he would dodge a  _ hug _ from one of his closest friends who happened to be an Angel of the Lord, but Sam's mind still screamed to understand and know and it wasn't  _ fair _ , it really wasn't fair that Dean and Bobby and even Castiel knew so much about what had happened to him and Sam couldn't remember anything and no one would  _ tell _ him!

His frustration carried him through the stilted and stumbling conversation that was... not much different from an interrogation, if he was being honest. "Hazy on the details" was certainly an understatement, given the events that Castiel was "clarifying" for him, even beyond having the confirmation that having his soul returned to him really could have killed him. That his soulless self had let Dean get turned into a vampire to track the coven, that he'd threatened Castiel into helping him after tricking him into coming down with the plot of an Indiana Jones movie, that he'd tried to kill Bobby--

He put his head down in his hands and stifled a groan.

"Sam? Are you okay? Is your wall still intact?"

"It's fine," Sam mumbled, rubbing at his temples. "I mean, it's not leaking or anything, just..." He put his hands down and mustered up a weak smile for the angel. "Guess Bobby didn't tell me as much as he led me to believe." Not that Bobby had told him anything, but that was the lie he was going with, and it still sat bitter on his tongue.

"Being human, he would no doubt have some difficulty separating his emotions from the events," Castiel offered, making Sam snort softly.

"Right," he sighed. "And humans aren't so good with that. Guess it's different with angels, huh?"

"To a degree," Castiel admitted. "After all, angels have been...  _ encouraged _ not to have emotions for many centuries. When we do have emotions that we choose not to suppress, it can become more difficult to separate the emotions from the memories."

"Oh," Sam mumbled, wincing. "Sorry if I've been making you dredge up some shit you'd rather suppress."

"You have not," Castiel assured him. "Once we became aware of the fact that you were without your soul, I chose to suppress my emotional responses while interacting with your soulless self." There was a moment of silence as Sam processed that, and then Castiel asked, very carefully, "Sam? May I kiss you?"

"No!"

Castiel blinked.

Sam blinked. He hadn't even thought at all, just blurted out the denial, and he couldn't even figure out  _ why _ . His brain kicked into gear and quickly offered up several possible explanations and reasons why kissing him would be a bad idea for Castiel, and he flushed. "I mean, if my soul is still settling in my body and it really is as damaged as you feared, you probably shouldn't be near that--"

"Sam!" Castiel broke in, holding up a hand. "Please, stop. You do not need to try and explain."

"But," Sam started, and then stumbled to a stop, confused. He didn't need to explain? He always had to explain! Everyone was always insisting he explain things, Dean wouldn't take anything Sam said without an explanation for why lately.

"I asked permission, and you said no," Castiel told him. "It does not matter why you said no, only that you did. You certainly have more than enough reasons, I'm sure, but you have no need to justify your decisions, not to me. They are your decisions, and I will respect them as I respect you."

"I don't even know  _ why _ I said no," Sam mumbled, scrubbing his hands over his face. "I mean... it's just a kiss...."

"Is it?" Castiel asked, soft and knowing, and Sam flushed further. "In truth, I probably should have expected the answer. If a hug was too much to ask of you, a kiss surely would be as well."

"I'm sorry, Cas," Sam swallowed. He  _ wanted _ to reach out, to give Castiel that hug at least, but his body refused to move any closer, stubbornly shying away from the static tingle of Castiel's Grace. "You deserve better than me.  _ From _ me."

"There is very little that could be considered better than you, Sam," Castiel told him, his voice soft and serious, Grace-lit blue eyes sad. "But I do not know if I truly deserve you, either."

And then, before Sam could ask what he meant, the angel was gone again.


	4. Damaged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for traumatic Grace extraction!

**D** EAN WAS GONE and Sam wasn't sure if that was really a relief or not. Sam still couldn't bring himself to think about Gadreel having possessed him without his knowledge and with Dean not only knowing and complicit in the possession but having actively hid it from Sam without feeling a hot rush of rage. It was familiar, a call back to a different time, a different Sam, who had been so angry at Dean and at Dad and at the demons who would not leave him alone to live a normal, safe life away from the death and destruction that had dogged his heels since before he could even walk. He was doing his best to ignore and dismiss and even work through the anger - time and again, he'd been shown that his anger led nowhere good, just to more death and destruction - but it was a process and there were moments that Sam wasn't sure he would ever manage it completely.

Castiel was here, and that was definitely a relief because, despite everything that had happened, Sam knew he could trust Castiel not to let him break the world again trying to fix the damage Gadreel had done using Sam's hands. What Sam had not counted on, but in retrospect probably should have, was how Castiel also refused to allow Sam to destroy himself as well.

"Keep going," Sam gasped around the pain, choked out around visions of memories that weren't his and were at the same time. A part of him wanted to stop and analyze the memories, but the pain wouldn't let him.

"Why?"

"We... we... we have to find Gadreel...."

"No," Castiel started to withdraw the needle from Sam's neck. "Why must the Winchesters run towards death?"

"No, don't!" Sam reached up, grabbing his hand to keep him from moving. The needle wiggled in his neck, sending a burst of fresh pain through his flayed nerves. "Don't... don't stop...!"

"Sam, please," Castiel begged, his hand rigid beneath Sam's to keep from moving and causing Sam even more pain. "I've died, as an angel and as a human, and dying as a human showed me more than anything else that life is precious, and it must be protected at all costs, even a life as... as  _ pig-headed _ as a Winchester's!"

"My life's not worth any more than anyone else's," Sam choked out. "Not yours, or Dean's... or Kevin's." The stillness of Castiel's hand changed, and Sam pressed his advantage. "Please. Please, help me do one thing right. Keep going."

There was a moment of hesitation where Sam feared Castiel would ignore him, would disregard his wish to extract every last trace of Gadreel's Grace from his body, and then the needle pressed in deeper and Sam screamed. Every cell of his body felt on fire, ripping apart like the Trials were underway all over again. He thought he felt something wet trailing from his nose and ears, but couldn't focus through the pain enough to identify it. He thought he might feel fingers stroking through his hair, pleasure and pain twisting up his exhausted nerves in a mess of sensation that felt strangely disconnected... like he was floating...

"Hold on," he heard Castiel say as if from a distance of miles rather than inches. "This may pinch."

And then the needle was gone, pulled steadily from his neck and away before Sam could utter a protest. Moments later, two fingers pressed to his forehead and he felt the rushing slide of that painfully unfamiliar angelic Grace scour across every part of him inside and out, jolting him solidly back into his body before retreating. "Cas... what the hell was that?!"

"I've healed your wounds completely," the angel said, voice tight and flat in a way that made Sam flinch a little.

"And the Grace?" he forced himself to ask, looking up. Castiel held up the syringe, barely even halfway full of glowing white Grace.

"Whatever Grace was inside you is gone now," he told him just as flatly. "What's left of Gadreel is in here. We'll just have to try the spell with what we have."

Sam cursed softly, scrubbing a hand over his face. So close... and so what if going further might have killed him? Look at what had happened the last time he chose life over death? The rage at Gadreel and Dean swelled, threatening to sweep over him and he clenched his hands tight into fists, struggling against it.

"Sam, I want Gadreel to pay as much as you do," Castiel said as he turned away and stalked to the nearby table, placing the syringe and its precious contents very carefully on the surface before whirling on Sam, anger and anguish mingled in his expression. "But nothing is worth losing you!"

"Cas--"

"Sam, may I kiss you?"

Sam went still, blinking. He couldn't have heard what he thought he had. "What?"

"May I kiss you?" Castiel repeated, slow and deliberate. "Words appear to be inadequate for communicating my feelings just now, and after words have been used to mislead you so often the past several months I believe actions may be more effective in this case anway."

Nope, Sam hadn't misunderstood. It still boggled his mind that Castiel was even asking. He hadn't asked to kiss Sam in... Sam did the mental calculations quickly and realized that Castiel hadn't actually asked him for a kiss since that day in the hotel room when he had come to Sam despite the war and Sam couldn't even hug him. The angel's words about not deserving Sam had made no sense then, though Sam thought he might get it now knowing about Castiel's deal with Crowley at the time. But he hadn't asked again, and then he broke Sam's wall, and Sam went insane, and Castiel came back from the dead again to save him at the cost of the angel's own sanity, and while he had hugged both Sam and Dean since then, there had been no kisses.

Well, no kisses asked of Sam. "I thought... you and Meg... I thought you didn't...."

"After breaking your wall and risking your life as I did, I felt that I could no longer be considered worthy of anything you might once have been willing to offer me," Castiel said, parsing Sam's disjointed words and explaining the question he could not manage to ask. He hesitated, then lowered his gaze from Sam's. "I realize that I have no right to ask it of you now, not when I have deceived and betrayed you so many times--"

"Yes."

Castiel froze. Swallowed. Sam waited patiently as Castiel visibly processed having heard that word fall from Sam's lips, meeting his gaze with a calm that felt nearly alien to him after the turmoil he had been in, but on this subject he knew he could be calm.

It took the space of seventeen heartbeats (not that Sam was exactly counting them en lieu of seconds) before Castiel swallowed again and asked, "Sam, are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Castiel," Sam said, pronouncing the angel's name with care and precision, watching as Castiel trembled to hear it spoken. "You know me, know what I've been through. You know I don't say that word to any angel lightly. And I'm telling you  _ yes _ . Anything you ask of me, if I can give it, you can have."

There was a look in Castiel's eyes that Sam couldn't quite put name to. It was similar to awe, but different. Painful. Aching. The angel approached him with slow and measured steps, as if Sam might startle or run if he moved too fast. Sam stayed where he was, extending a hand to Castiel when he was closer, pulling Castiel in between his legs when the angel took his hand, wrapping his arms around Castiel's waist and tilting his head back to look up at him.

_ I trust you, _ he willed Castiel to hear, as fervent and heartfelt as any prayer he had ever offered in his life, giving him the words that he couldn't quite give voice and hoping Castiel heard them.  _ I love you. _

Castiel's breath hitched and his eyes went wide. His hands trembled as they rose to cup Sam's upturned face. Sam smiled to feel the way those hands trailed through his hair, the touch bringing only a soft sigh of pleasure to his nerves this time. Castiel lowered his lips to Sam's and Sam met him without hesitation, opened to him and accepted the angel's advance even as he returned the kiss, tender and fragile like their first kiss had been.

It was over too soon, Castiel breaking the kiss and touching his forehead to Sam's, eyes closed as he breathed in and out in iron-held regularity. Sam let him, neither pressing forward nor drawing away, giving Castiel the contact he desired along with the time to regain his composure that he so clearly needed.

"I wish," Castiel rasped after several long seconds had passed, "that I could have kissed you when I was human."

"One more thing Gadreel stole," Sam whispered back. The fire of his rage was still there, still hovering, but it was banked now, kept back by the desire, the  _ need _ to give Castiel this, to share this calm with the being who had given it to him. "We'll find him."

"We will," Castiel agreed. "And if the spell doesn't work, we will find another way."

"Okay, Cas," Sam said, letting his eyes drift closed, soaking in the feeling of having Castiel here with him, discordant Grace and all. "Okay."


	5. Casifer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not technically Castiel, but then that's kind of the point. ^_^

**E** VEN IF HE could have articulated just how painful and disturbing it was for him to see the face he associated with Castiel and know it was really Lucifer looking back at him, Sam wouldn't be able to tell Dean. The look that Chuck had shot him was more than enough to convey what Sam had already guessed about how  _ God _ felt on the matter, and he was just... tired. Chuck's assurances that Sam had nothing to fear from Lucifer while he was here meant very little in the face of the raw panic that gripped him at the harsh sound of a snap of fingers, however ineffectual it proved to be, and to see Jimmy Novak's blue eyes looking at him with such cold calculation, the edge of menace and leer tucked up tight into the edges where only someone who knew to look for it could see...

He knew the nightmares would be overwhelming when whatever Chuck was doing to stop them was no longer in effect, and a part of him wished the deity would just stop. Rip the bandaid off, let him toss and turn and scream himself hoarse through the nightmares behind the privacy of a soundproofed door... except that Lucifer had taken over  _ Sam's _ room for his snit, and there would be no ready and tested soundproofing activated with a drop of blood and a flick of the lock on any of the other rooms.

"Hey, can I kiss you?" Lucifer asked, staring at Sam where he lounged back in one of the library chairs watching as Sam poured through one of the books.

"No," Sam answered, flat and uncompromising, without even looking up.

"Why not?" Lucifer demanded, the sudden movement of him sitting upright making Sam's metaphorical hackles rise.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," he gritted out, hands clenched on the edges of the book.

"Stingy little slut," Lucifer sneered, and there was a definite edge of a whine underneath the bite. "You let  _ Castiel _ kiss you."

"You aren't Castiel," Sam snapped, standing up from his chair and snatching up the book.

"You think he knows you better than I do?" Lucifer called after him, ice and menace and leer in every word. "That he ever could? You really think anything you have with  _ him _ could be as profound as what you had with me?"

"No," Sam said, honest and angry and one hundred percent done. "I think it's better with him than you ever were."

He left the room, blocking out Lucifer's curses at his back as best he could, and passed Chuck in the hall just outside the library. Sam didn't slow down, and Chuck didn't try to speak to him, but something shifted as they passed each other, the ice skittering away and leaving only warmth, and Sam wondered if that might just mean Chuck approved.


	6. Plus One: Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of Toni Bevell and uncertain reality.

**I** T WAS OVER, and Castiel could not express his relief. The card was taken from Mick Davies and shoved into the pocket of his coat only as a means to get rid of the man all the faster, and Castiel was fully prepared to set the thing on fire when he returned to the Bunker with Dean, Mary, and Sam. Perhaps he would let Sam do the honors. He did not like the hollow look to his beloved's eyes, similar to the look he sometimes got when memories of the Cage and Lucifer intruded on his thoughts uninvited. Castiel was very nearly positive that, if he made mention of his suspicions to Dean, the elder Winchester would turn right around and drive back so that he could put several bullets in Lady Bevell, Mick's assurances of her punishment be damned. Certainly Castiel had a similar desire, but Sam needed his presence more than he needed Castiel's vengeance on his behalf.

At least, that was what Castiel told himself in order to justify how close he stayed within Sam's space, never too far that the man could not reach out and touch him as desired, but not so close as to force contact upon Sam if he did not seek it. Sam gave no obvious sign that he noticed, even when Dean eyed the two of them with raised eyebrows, but he also did not attempt to put any more distance between them, for which Castiel was profoundly grateful. He had worried, in the wake of Lucifer's expulsion from his Vessel, that Sam would pull away from him, seeing in him the remnants of his tormentor, and yet Sam had continued to be kind and gentle and welcoming towards him, continued to display that trust he had in him that still took Castiel's metaphorical breath away.

It was humbling and awe-inspiring, and Castiel prayed to his absent Father that he would never take the gift that was Sam Winchester for granted.

"Hey, uh, Castiel?"

"Yes, Sam?" Castiel looked up, giving Sam his full attention. Sam's face turned pink and he looked down and to the side, his hair falling forward to obscure his face in the way Castiel recognized as something Sam did when he was embarrassed. "Whatever it is, you need only ask," he added, attempting to be reassuring.

"No, yeah, I, uh... I know that," Sam mumbled, glancing up from beneath his lashes before looking away again. Castiel waited with the patience afforded him as an Angel of the Lord who had watched the planets form, and fortunately Sam did not wait nearly so long to give voice to his request. "Can I kiss you?"

"Are you sure?" He didn't need to ask why Sam would ask. Consent was a sensitive issue for both of them, and there had certainly been enough emotional upheaval over the last few days that wanting to ground himself in Castiel was not unexpected. There was an odd tension to Sam's shoulders and mouth, however, that concerned Castiel, prompting him to check that Sam truly did want a kiss.

And Sam, brilliant and beautiful and intuitive Sam, paused to assess his own state of being before he nodded once, tight and firm. "I'm sure. Can I?"

"Of course," Castiel acquiesced, opening his arms and extending his hands with palms upturned in welcome. Sam's lips twitched up, just a little, and he reached for Castiel's hands, grasping them in his and twining their fingers together as he closed the distance between them and brought their mouths together in a kiss.

Castiel stilled his vessel's breath, parting his lips as Sam had taught him to allow Sam in however much he wished to come. The brush of skin against skin was hesitant at first, then became more firm and solid, lips shifting to interlock rather than merely touch. Sam's tongue stretched forward slowly, testing, and Castiel met the extension with his own, the taste receptors firing off as they always did with every different and nuanced molecule found within Sam's mouth. Castiel held his ground against the onslaught of sensation, his Grace singing as it brushed across the familiar warmth and glow of Sam's beautiful soul, perceiving without ears the way that soul opened to him and sang back, fragile like shards of crystal and so achingly glorious that Castiel could have wept from the joy that suffused his Grace at being granted this connection with the man he loved.

Angelic perception allowed him to perceive time in a fashion that often dismayed humans, compressing eons into mere moments and stretching seconds out to encompass centuries. Castiel could have existed perfectly content in this moment for his entire existence, but all too soon Sam separated their mouths and drew back a few inches. Castiel looked up to see that his beloved's eyes were closed and his cheeks still flushed, though there was a look of relief in the set of his features that puzzled and concerned Castiel.

"That's it," Sam breathed. "This is it. This is real."

"Sam?"

"Toni pulled a lot of shit trying to get to me. Nothing as bad as what Lucifer's capable of, but still bad. The worst she pulled was a spell that made me hallucinate things. Bad things, yeah, but... but also good." Sam's hands tightened on Castiel's. "She couldn't fake this. Fake you. This, crazy as it is with Dean and Mom both alive... this is reality."

"It is," Castiel agreed immediately, tightening his own hold minutely, careful not to exceed the pressures that were comfortable to human bones and joints. "This is real. Sam, may I kiss you, too?"

"Always, Castiel," Sam sighed and brought their mouths together again.

 

**=End=**


End file.
